CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Avonlea – Now
After my nightly call with Lennox and one last check of the kitchen to ensure it’s gleaming for breakfast service tomorrow, I head for the parlor and the small library of books there.
I didn’t bring any of mine from home, and though I have my Kindle, I’m craving the feel of a physical book in my hands.
I scan the shelves, hoping someone left a book that will grab my interest and keep me from dwelling on the one thing— person—that never seems far from my mind these days.
I brush my fingers across the spines and have to stifle a chuckle.
Here I was hoping for a distraction from the man, and instead I see his name on the very spine my fingers are splayed across.
Jameson L. Murray.
Of course they’d have his books in here.
From what I’ve gathered, Jamie hasn’t been back here for years, but that hasn’t kept his grandparents from being endlessly proud of his success.
I keep my hand on the spine, as if it will connect me to the man himself, but my eyes travel around the shelf where I see several copies of each of his books scattered throughout.
I pull it between my fingers until it slides free and flip it open to the back panel of the dust jacket. Brushing my thumb over his picture, I think of how worn my own copies of these books are back at home. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve read them.
There’s history between me and Jamie—plenty of hurt and more than enough secrets—but when I told him I’d be his biggest fan, I meant it.
Every first edition, I own. Special editions, they’re there on my shelf.
The audiobooks, I have those too. The only thing I don’t have are signed copies, because though there were stores in Glasgow that carried them, I knew I’d only want his signature if I could get it in person… and that was never going to happen.
“Hey.”
The voice behind me makes me jump and drop the book with a thump.
Pressing one hand to my heart and the other onto the shelf in front of me, I turn my head and am greeted by green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
The skin around them crinkles with his smile.
I love that smile, and my heart picks up its pace at the realization that it’s the first time he’s given it to me since I’ve been here.
“Hey,” I say shakily as he bends down to pick up the book. His book. “I was—”
“Just doing a bit of light reading?” he cuts in, handing it to me. My fingers slip against his and it’s like an electric shock to my system, a super charge that makes me weak at the knees.
“Have you seen how many copies of these your grandparents have in here?” I motion with the book toward the shelves.
“Yeah,” he says, and rubs the back of his neck, his ears turning pink against his auburn hair. I always loved that he couldn’t hide his blushes. I’m glad he still can’t.
“It’s clear they’re proud of you.” I am too, I think but don’t say.
“Not sure I deserve it,” he mumbles, gaze shifting around the room.
“You do,” I say, clutching the copy of Journals of Elsewhere to my chest.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. If he feels this guilty about not returning to see them for all these years, why didn’t he? He could have come back any time he wanted. “You don’t have to read that, you know. Plenty of other books here.” His fingers dance along the many spines, touching any but his own.
“There are, but…” I chew my lip and hold the book tighter.
I’m not sure I want him to know how much I love his books. There are a lot of feelings tied up in these for me—about how things might’ve been different if he’d never published them…
“But what, Avi?” he asks, and I look up into his jewel-bright eyes that are full of questions.
“But yours are my favorite,” I whisper, and even though I want so badly to look away, I can’t. I can’t because his eyes blaze to life with my words, like they lit a fire deep within him that had gone out. It’s the most breathtaking sight.
“You’ve—you’ve read them?” He steps back and slumps into the corner armchair, like this revelation literally knocked him off his feet. His expression is unreadable as he searches my face.
I nod and say, “They’re incredible, Jamie. You did exactly what you always said you would.”
That fire burns brighter as my words land.
My words did that.
“And so did you. Or I assume you did, considering you’re here—head chef of your very own kitchen. Did you go to culinary school like you planned, or…” He glances away and I wonder what the second part of that question was going to be.
“I did. It was challenging with Lennox, but I managed. I actually did two years at a local school in Glasgow. Mum and Dad helped a lot. Then they hired an au pair to help me with Lennox and he and I moved to Paris for a year so I could go to the school Mum went to. It was a dream.”
Lennox was two and it was not easy, but I learned so much, and I got to taste independence for the first time in my life.
It was after that year that Lennox and I got our own place in Glasgow instead of living with my parents, and I started figuring out the whole single mum thing for myself.
They were always there to help, of course, but that year in Paris taught me that I could do it.
That I could have my dream, and my son, and the life I always wanted…
Even if it was a bit different to how I originally imagined it. Even if it was always missing a piece.
“That’s incredible you were able to do that, even with Lennox. He’s about ten, right?” Jamie’s voice tightens and I avert my gaze because this feels a little too close to the truth of things that I’m still not ready to tell him.
“Yeah, and he’s my everything.” It’s true, he is.
I knew he’d change my life, but I had no idea that he would change me.
I’ve never loved anything, or anyone, more than I love that not-so-little boy.
Which makes this whole situation with Jamie that much harder.
I have more to worry about than how Jamie will take this news. I don’t know how Lennox will either.
Jamie watches me intently, and I don’t know what he sees in my expression, but he nods and his brows pinch together over his frames. “I’m glad you’re happy, Avi.”
“I’m glad you are too, Jamie.” At least I hope he is. I’m about to ask, because my presumption feels like a misstep, but he speaks and drives the question from my mind.
“Do you think—” He clears his throat. “Do you think we could get to know each other again, as adults… maybe as friends?”
I swallow past the lump that’s threatening to form and say, “I’d like that.”
The idea terrifies me too, but just being around him these past few weeks has shown me how intensely I’ve missed him.
“Maybe we could go on a hike or something—like old times—or maybe visit Armadale Castle. We never did get to go there together.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile. I don’t doubt he remembers our excursion to the mainland as clearly as I do.
I play with the hem of my jumper and think about how his eyes grew to the size of saucers last night when I walked out of the kitchen in my Empyreal sweatshirt.
Correction, his sweatshirt. I’d forgotten I had it on, having grabbed it on my break to cut the chill.
Now he knows I kept it, and I can only imagine what he thinks of that.
I wonder what he thinks of all of this. Me. Lennox.
“I’m working tomorrow, but I’m taking the morning off on Monday. We could go then?” I want him to say yes, but I also want him to say no. The prospect of that much time alone with Jamie…
“Monday it is. I’ll, uh, let you get back to your reading.” He nods toward the book I’m still clutching to my chest like a lifeline. Just before he turns the corner, he looks back and says, “You, uh, you know the dedication is for you, right?”
Then he walks away, and I’m frozen to the spot.
What dedication? The one in this book? For me?
I sink into the chair he just vacated and flip to the dedication page with fumbling fingers.
To the one who inspired my love of adventure, I couldn’t have done this without you.
I cover my mouth with my hand and choke back the sob that nearly tears free.